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Subject: Heatwave in the City Chapter 16 This is a work of fiction. Everybody in it is entirely my own creation. Don’t even think of suing me for putting you in a story, because I haven’t. If you happen to be resident in one of the places mentioned, or to belong to any of the institutions mentioned, don’t even think about telling me I haven’t portrayed them accurately. Work of fiction. The name of the institution only occurs because it is common knowledge so I couldn’t get away with pretending it was otherwise. If I’ve borrowed your Church, school, police station, laundrette – I haven’t. I’ve merely used the name on the building because people walk past and see it every day. Work of fiction. None of the people in the story exist, so none of the things that happen in the story can have happened to them. The world, however, is the one exception to this – the world which has in it so many wonderful people that writing fiction of this sort becomes an obligation – for me; not for everybody. You’ll have found your own place in the scheme of things, and can be wonderful in your own way. This is a story of love. It isn’t a story of sex, though that might get mentioned. There is no pornography here. Some of it is cross-generational, but it isn’t about perverted love either. Some is what nowadays is termed “gay”, but the same applies. If you think you might be offended by that, the time to go and read something else is now. Still reading? Then enjoy, and remember, you don’t pay to read these stories, but it does cost Nifty money to bring them to you. Please consider donating trabzon escort to Nifty fty/donate.html Heatwave in the City by Jonah Chapter 16 It was a bare room. Three chairs and a table, though there was a pile of stackable chairs in the corner. The pale green walls were bare. A single fluorescent tube provided the lighting, for the room was windowless. A radiator, next to the door, was the heating. I sat on the lone chair, my wrists still cuffed behind my back. I looked, blankly at the switch panel that sat in the middle of the table. Remote switches for a recording system presumably. CCTV cameras were in two corners of the ceiling. A man entered – tall, uniformed but hatless. His greying hair was wavy and swept back. A second, older, shorter and balding man followed him. They sat facing me. “Mr Cummings,” said the taller man. “Sheriff Vance Clarke, and this is deputy Pat O’ Leary. I understand that you are a foreign national visiting our country. I have to advise you that the laws that apply here are the laws of the State of Massachusetts, and not those of the United Kingdom, although we have the right to repatriate you if the court so decides. It’s unfortunate that you got mixed up in this, and any attempt on your part to protect the other members of the gang would be misguided.” “There is no gang,” I pointed out. “And that is one of those attempts that I just told you would be misguided,” he returned. A third man entered the room – in plain clothes this time. He was younger than the other two, but his ample head of neatly trimmed hair was tunalı escort still greying at the temples. The Sheriff looked annoyed for a fleeting second, then, recovering himself he tried to say firmly, “Earl, we were just…..” “Perverting the course of justice,” said the newcomer. “Vance, Pat, you can remove me from this room if you both want to spend ten days in the state pen. I guess you told my client that he’s entitled to legal representation?” I shook my head. “Cal advised him before he brought him here…” Again I shook my head. “Sheriff, you’d be very foolish to trust what Cal Perkins tells you,” I said ernestly. “He want’s your job after next month, and he’d have stood a chance of getting it too, if he hadn’t been silly enough to implicate himself in this.” “He’s telling you the truth,” said the man called Earl, ” and you’d better believe it, if you want to hold onto the very slim chance of keeping your badge.” The sheriff looked inclined to try to bluster his way out. “Earl, you’ve tried some pretty doubtful ways to get your clients off the hook, but this is a child sex case, and we…” “No it’s not,” said the lawyer. “It certainly is and your client……” “What’ve you arrested Bob Morgan for?” The question stopped the sheriff in his tracks for a few seconds. “He tried to sabotage a police operation,” he said eventually. “Does he often do that?” “I wouldn’t employ him if he did.” “But you employed Cal Perkins, so, one way or another, you employed a rogue officer. What operation did Morgan sabotage?” “We’d organised a stake-out tunceli escort to round up a child sex ring,” replied the sheriff. “Cal Perkins was in charge of the stake- out” “And Morgan, one by one, sent the other officers home, so that Perkins was on his own, Perkins later arrested Morgan.” The sheriff nodded. “It had been Morgan’s operation in the first place, ” said the lawyer. “Perkins came to you and asked to take over the stake-out because Morgan had never led one of those before, right?” Another nod. “But he didn’t tell you, probably because he never bothered to find out, that it wasn’t a stake out that Morgan was carrying out. Nor should it have been. South Dakota police had warned Morgan that a capital offender had escaped from Death Row and was headed to Ashfield intent on revenge. Morgan asked MSP for resources for a defend-and-protect operation. They provided protection for the fugutive’s sister, but failed to identify the Roberts place as a potential target. Morgan correctly identified it as such and organised his own D finally, I say, we climbed happily into bed. Tomorrow was to be a busy day for some of us. TO BE CONTINUED If you’ve enjoyed this story, you’ll probably enjoy other stories in this series by the same author. This is the latest in a series that includes “A letter from America”, “Stranger on a train,” “Marooned”, “the Boston Tea Party”, “Immigrant,” and “A Cantabrian Operetta”, all the foregoing are on Nifty’s Adult/Youth site. “The Pen Pals” is on Young Friends. You might also like “A Neglected Boy”, by Jacob Lion, also on Adult/Youth. You can find links to all these stories, as well as some illustrations on Jacob Lion’s website bly/jonah-stories.html My thanks go to Jacob for providing this facility as well as for his kind and generous support without which I would never have written any of them.

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